


Band Candy

by rippergiles



Series: Our Time [9]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, M/M, Multi, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 21:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17030409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippergiles/pseuds/rippergiles
Summary: 1998. Youthful lack of inhibition rules the day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The episode “Band Candy” was written by Jane Espenson. This section is primarily based on scenes from that episode in a narrative format, in an attempt to tell Rupert and Ethan’s whole story. Some violence and gun threats occur in this story, so keep that in mind if that may be upsetting to you.

  
_But if you close your eyes_  
_Does it almost feel like_  
_Nothing changed at all?_  
_And if you close your eyes_  
_Does it almost feel like_  
_You've been here before?_  
 **-Pompeii, Bastille**  
  


        “You’ve worked in this town before?” the vampire asked Ethan, eyeing him as he rested his chin on folded hands.  
  
        “Yes,” Ethan confirmed, examining a trinket from the shelf behind him. For an office in City Hall, the room contained less-than-bureaucratic items of intrigue. “Were you here last Halloween?”  
  
        “No, why?”  
  
        “Oh, no matter. What is it you need done?”  
  
        Mr. Trick smoothed the front of his colourful, oversized suit. “We need the town distracted. Out of the way while we get some work done.”  
  
        Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Distracted from what?”  
  
        The vampire made a point of scrutinising his nails. “The Mayor is willing to offer a bonus for a contractor that doesn’t ask questions.”  
  
        Ethan grinned. There was a reversion spell he’d been dying to try, but the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. It wouldn’t be enough to recreate what he’d done with the costumes- that was a fair number of teenagers, but he needed all of the adults in town occupied, at least. With them out of the way, he assumed the children would either remain hidden, or join in the fun.  
  
        “There’s no easy way to cast a spell on a whole population like this household by household,” he explained to Mr. Trick, who was watching him pace slowly in front of the desk. “The key would be to cast the spell on objects, then find a way to disseminate the objects throughout every family.”

        “I’m listening.”  
  
        “There’s no store _everyone_ shops at, no restaurant everyone eats at, correct?”  
  
        Trick shrugged.  
  
        “Can we look at what percentage of the population has a kid enrolled in Sunnydale schools?” Ethan asked, gesturing at the computer on the desk.  
  
        The vampire smiled as he booted up the machine, the glow of the screen illuminating his already-unsettling features. Ethan put a hand in his pocket, fingering the candy bar he had been saving for later.


	2. Chapter 2

        Rupert clicked his turn signal as he pulled out of the motel parking lot. He’d been trying to rendezvous with Faith after leaving Buffy to her SAT prep, see if she could handle the local vampire population for a few days, but the new Slayer was nowhere to be found. He gnawed at his lip anxiously. He found himself concerned that they were leaving this teenager in a seedy motel all by herself- he’d never consider the arrangement for Buffy, but with Faith, somehow they’d met a dead end with other options. He’d tried to mention it offhand to Buffy, see if Faith could stay in the Summers’ spare room, but the girl took his suggestion with no real commitment, even a slight sense of unease. He himself had a guest room, but when he’d contacted the Council about the new Slayer in town, they made clear their feelings of impropriety on the matter.   
  
        He shuddered at the thought. Even if he was a dirty old man (as many among the Watcher ranks undoubtedly were), Rupert’s regular nightmares of how his last romantic encounter ended made him unlikely to attempt overtures toward anyone else any time soon.

        His pile of concerns never shrunk, the worrying never got any easier. Trying to manage even one Slayer was proving difficult lately. He pulled into the Summers’ driveway trying to remember when he last felt carefree.  
  
        He knocked on the door and waited for an answer that did not come. Rupert hoped he hadn't driven across town for nothing a second time tonight. Knocking again, he called out. “Buffy?”  
  
        Noises began to make their way toward the door, and he let out a sigh of relief. When the door opened, however, he was surprised to see Joyce Summers on the other side instead of her daughter.  
  
        “Oh, erm, hello!” he said in an attempt at cheeriness. “I was hoping to speak with Buffy.”  
  
Joyce’s eyebrows shot up. “She’s not here. She told me she couldn’t be home because she needed to train with you.”  
  
        “I  _ was _ training with her earlier,” he explained, “but she said she couldn’t stay because you wanted her home tonight.”  
  
        “You don’t say,” Joyce replied, her eyes narrowing. “Would you like to come inside, Mr. Giles?”  
  
        Rupert smiled nervously and thanked her as she stepped back to let him in. Asking to borrow Joyce’s phone, he called Willow.  
  
        “Hello?”  
  
        “Hi, Willow, it’s Giles. How are you?”  
  
        “Uh, I’m a little concerned that you’re calling me,” she replied. “Is something wrong?”  
  
        He made eye contact with Joyce, who was watching the call with interest. “No, nothing wrong. I’m with Ms. Summers and we just wanted to check if Buffy was with you?”  
  
        “Nope! I thought she was with you?” Willow answered. “Wait, uh, maybe I was supposed to cover for her for something? I don’t think so, though. So definitely nope-she’s-not-here.”  
  
        “Thanks, Willow,” he said, smiling a bit in spite of himself at the unspoken rules of teenage friendship. “I’m sure she’s just somewhere avoiding us, don’t worry. See you at school.”  
  
         He turned back to Joyce, shaking his head.   
  
         “Is there anywhere else Buffy could be?” he asked, wondering if he should err on the side of concern or irritation.  
     
        Joyce seemed to have chosen the latter. “Oh, she’s probably at that dance club again. Even if she has the SATs in two days.”  
  
        Rupert thought that might be as good a segue as he was likely to get. “Speaking of that, while we wait for her to come home, I was thinking maybe we should work out a more structured schedule for her. While my primary objective is her Slayer training, I recognise the importance of academic achievement as well. And of course she has a mother who would probably like to see her on occasion,” he finished with a small smile.  
  
         “Once she gets back from whatever excursion she saw fit to lie to us about, she’ll be lucky if I don’t schedule her sleeping hours and bathroom breaks.”  
  
        “W-well, that may be a bit over-”  
  
        “I’m joking, Mr. Giles. Mostly.” She grinned, sitting down at her kitchen table and opening a box of chocolate bars, identical to the box he himself had purchased from Buffy.  
  
       “She preyed on your weaknesses too, it seems,” he joked, nodding toward the chocolate. Joyce peeled open a bar and broke off a piece, popping it in her mouth as she reached for another bar and tried to hand it to him.  
  
        “I’ve got plenty at home,” he mumbled.  
  
        “We might as well,” Joyce said through a mouthful of chocolate. “Lots of Cocoriffic to get through.”  
  
        He couldn’t argue with that. Rupert took the proffered candy and filled the empty seat across from her. A moment later, he heard noises from the front door. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see Buffy enter, but he knew it was her based on how Joyce’s body immediately shifted into a chastising pose.  
  
      “Hey, mom,” he heard Buffy say as he stood up. “Sorry I’m late. You know Giles, all slay, all the--”  
  
       Giles stepped out from behind her mother, barely holding in a smirk at the guilty look on his Slayer’s face.   



	3. Chapter 3

        Ethan looked up from his logistics spreadsheet as the rollers of the line began to spin again, boxes of chocolate bars sliding smoothly along. A warehouse worker was approaching him, dark circles under his eyes from the long hours the Mayor had forced them all into to make this job a quick turnaround. Ethan had already jump-started his energy with magic twice; he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay standing and still be capable of pulling this off.  
  
        “This is the last of that batch, boss,” the employee informed him, running a hand over what was surely soon to be a bald spot. “There’s another waiting at the back of the line for you.”  
  
         Ethan nodded and waved him off, massaging his temple as he made his way toward the back of the warehouse. A large pallet of boxes was stacked to his eye level as they awaited loading onto the next truck.  
  
        He took a deep breath, finding his center before raising his hands over the collection of boxes. “The wisdom of age, retire,” he recited. “The recklessness of youth, imbue. Be craved, irresistible, confounding.”   
  
        Ethan felt his energy move over the chocolate, a golden glow briefly emanating from the boxes when his incantation was complete. He signalled to a crew member that the shipment was ready and retreated back toward his desk. There had to be a coffee machine in here somewhere. He’d even settle for a cup of Rupert’s oversweetened tea.  
  
        And there it was, the name he’d avoided thinking of since arriving back in town. He was here to do a job. But the fact remained that if everything went according to plan, this job would affect his former friend- turning him into, well, his  _ former _ self. The thought was enticing, Ethan had to admit- but should he be expecting an experimental, reckless, but ultimately in-his-corner Ripper, or a bitter, powerful Ripper eager to do him harm? There was no way of knowing unless he sought Rupert out, and even Ethan thought that may be too big a gamble with so much money on the line.  
  
        Walking down the line, he spied an employee looking shifty as he unfolded the flaps on a box, his hand resurfacing with a chocolate bar in its grip. Ethan appeared behind him, grasping the worker’s wrist forcefully and causing him to drop the candy.  
  
        “Trust me,” he cautioned with a smile as the worker looked at him in alarm. “You don’t want to eat that.”  
  
        He’d told Trick that the laymen should be in the know as much as anyone responsible for dispersing the product, lest they be susceptible to the spell and abandon their work before the work was done, but clearly that advice hadn’t been heeded. Ethan sighed as he put the bar back in its place and re-sealed the box. He didn’t need chaos here, too.   



	4. Chapter 4

       “It will be tight, but I think we can fit in all your responsibilities,” Giles told Buffy, trying to maintain a casual composure as he finished off a candy bar. He kicked a wayward wrapper under the couch- there had to be several littering his apartment by now. His suspenders and tie felt restrictive, and he itched to shed them as soon as possible.

       “Sounds nice and...structured,” Buffy replied with a less than enthusiastic grin.

       Joyce caught his eye, then dug in her purse. “We've got more work to do here, honey,” she said, standing up and moving toward her daughter. “Why don't you give us a little more time? Take the car. Mr. Giles can drive me home.”

        Buffy’s open-mouthed stare nearly broke his resolve not to laugh. “What?” she asked, then repeated herself before Joyce handed her the keys. The moment her hands closed around them, she darted out the door.

        Joyce turned back to him, grinning nervously as she retrieved the bottle she’d been nursing from under the couch. “You think she noticed anything?”

        “No way,” he assured her as he dug a pack of cigarettes out from a box of junk he’d amassed over the years. These were ancient, but they’d do for the moment. He’d have to go out and find something actually worth smoking later. He lit the cigarette (a lighter much easier to locate due to all the candles he kept handy for spells and warding), then pulled out the box to inspect its contents further.  
  
        Rupert picked up a talisman he’d purchased at an estate sale years ago and forgotten about, then shuffled through some old magazines before setting them aside as well. A smaller item slipped out from one of the issues, landing face down on the floor. Letting smoke out of his mouth as he turned it over, his breath stopped for a moment as he saw the group in the photograph. They were surrounding a rusted white vintage car, that mammoth piece of shit Randall used to drive. There Ripper was on the hood, with his pierced ears and leather jacket, arms slung around Ethan on one side and Randall on the other. Thomas was next to them, leaning on the car, Diedre leaning on him. Philip crouched in front, having rushed into frame right before the self-timer on the camera went off. Their laughing faces had no idea of the tragedy just a few weeks more would bring. Rupert felt Joyce’s eyes on him, then laid the photo on his shelf. This was not the day for moping reflections.  
  
        “Now that she’s gone,” Joyce said coyly, “how about those tunes you promised me?”

        “Alright.” He crouched down, pulling out a Cream record and placing it on the turntable. As he placed the needle and the music came to life, he turned to her, catching her trying not to giggle as he unbuttoned his prison of a starched shirt. “What is it?”  
  
        She was digging in her purse again. “I thought maybe we could chill out some more,” she grinned, pulling out a baggie containing two joints, rolled and ready.   
          
        He laughed incredulously. “Where did you…?”   
          
        “I work with artists every day. They’re not stingy. Besides, being a single mom and everything, it’s stressful.”  
  
        He got the impression she was seeking his approval somehow, like she was embarrassed.  
  
        “Brilliant,” Rupert told her, and watched her relax as she handed over the baggie then settled on the floor next to the record player. He put out his cigarette and replaced it with both joints, lighting them as he joined her on the floor, laying on his back. He heard Joyce rifling through his record drawer as he inhaled, feeling a rush as tension began to leave his muscles in earnest.  
  
        “You’ve got good albums,” she told him, unnecessarily. Obviously he thought they were good, that’s why he bought them.  
  
        Ripper shrugged. “Yeah, they’re okay.”  
  
        He handed her one of the joints, smiling when she held it like a cigarette between her fingers. Classy broads hadn’t generally been in his orbit. She took a drag, closing her soft eyes as a smile danced on her lips. He moved with the music, remembering his jam sessions with Thomas and Olivia. Olivia- now she was a looker. He resolved to call her sometime, catch up, maybe even invite her to come stay. He’d wasted so much time not enjoying himself. It was time to change that.  
  
        “So how come they call you Ripper?” Joyce asked, reminding him that he had already had a lady here to entertain.   
  
        He sat up, looking at her. She had picked up the picture of his old gang and was studying the names scrawled on the back.   
  
        “Wouldn’t _you_ like to know,” he said with a cocky grin. _Keep ‘em guessing_.  
  
        The song went into a guitar solo, the riffs pounding away at the speaker as he finished off the joint with a long drag. He jumped up, shedding his outer shirt, then darted up to his bedroom. Kicking off his trousers, Ripper started to search through the rest of his wardrobe. He knew he’d put them here somewhere…  
  
        Joyce’s soft footfalls were muffled as the next song began, so that by the time he noticed her, she was already at the top of the stairs, watching him as he stood in his underwear and sorted through his clothing. He made eye contact for a moment, then went back to his task. Let her look if she wanted to.  
  
        He made a noise of triumph as he found them, a light blue pair of jeans, the denim torn in some places but perfectly worn in others. He stepped into them, the fit a bit more snug than he remembered, but from the look on Joyce’s face as she blatantly ogled his arse, she didn’t seem to mind. Ripper winked as he strode past her and back down the stairs. Returning to his coffee table, he rolled the old pack of cigarettes into his sleeve, then began to sift through Joyce’s purse. Why did they keep so much in these things?  
  
         “What are you doing?” she asked him as she saw his hand in her bag. The tone was one of genuine curiosity rather than accusation, so he had that going for him.  
  
          “Don’t worry about it,” he muttered as his fingers closed around the thin cylinder and carried it with him to the hallway mirror. She appeared behind him, causing him to poke himself in the eye with the pencil.  
  
         She frowned. “Is that my eyeliner?”  
  
         “Yeah, so?” he asked gruffly, rubbing his eye.  
  
         “Let me help you,” she told him gently, pulling the pencil away. He grumbled halfheartedly as she pulled his eyelid taut and traced the edge, biting her lip and glancing at his own with a twinkle in her eyes. When she’d finished, Ripper turned around to the mirror, his green eyes now bolder against his skin, his t-shirt and jeans leaving more of his body free than it was used to. It had been a long time since he looked like this. He liked it.  
  
        Joyce leaned against the wall, her eyes appraising him. “So what do you want to do? I know how to order pay-per-view,” she told him conspiratorially.   
  
        “Nah, let’s go out,” he decided, pushing his hair back in the mirror. “Have some fun. Tear things up a bit.”  
  
        Satisfied with his image, he opened the door and offered Joyce his arm. She took it, using her other hand to grip his bicep affectionately. Ripper smirked, wondering where this excursion might take them, then determined that he didn’t care as he swept her away into the night. 


	5. Chapter 5

        The cases of chocolate were moving down the shipping line faster than ever, warehouse workers barely touching them before moving on to the next box. Mr. Trick watched their progress and smiled.  
  
        “Demand’s high,” he told Ethan. Ethan, who’d enchanted more cases than he could count since this endeavour began, was already quite aware, but forced himself to reply politely.  
  
        “I thought it might be.”  
  
        Trick broke out into a wide smile, just on the eerie side of businesslike. “That's the reason I love this country,” he said, beginning to walk down the line with Ethan at his side. “You make a good product, and the people will come to you. Of course, a lot of them are gonna die, but that's the other reason I love this country.”  
  
        Ethan frowned. Death was an occasional unavoidable side effect of mayhem, and he wasn’t squeamish about that reality. But this job in particular had been intended as a relatively harmless distraction. They might hate themselves in the morning, but short of men laden with testosterone and now unburdened by common sense getting into deadly wrecks from ill-advised street racing, he failed to see how enchanted candy would be responsible for killing anyone. He thought again of Rupert and wondered if he’d been given any of the candy. He worked at the high school, which had become a major hub for distribution. There was little chance he’d retained his middle-aged sensibilities tonight.  
  
        They came upon a worker doing quality checks on the chocolate before sealing the boxes for loading. What quality needed to be maintained when the chocolate was both magically addicting and intended to cause destruction in the first place, Ethan didn’t know. But the man did his job all the same.  
  
        “Hey!” Trick suddenly shouted, making both Ethan and the employee jump. “Don’t sample the product!”  
  
        The man held up his empty hands, bewildered. “But I didn’t!”  
  
        Suddenly, the suited vampire lunged forward, grabbing the employee by his head and swiftly breaking his neck with a resounding crack. Ethan grimaced, taking a miniscule step back as the body crumpled to the floor. Trick dusted off his suitcoat and adjusted his pinky ring before snapping for another employee to come remove the corpse. The terrified-looking man who answered kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with either of them as he pulled his former coworker away.  
  
         “Okay…” Ethan remarked, his distaste for Trick growing by the moment. What had he gotten himself into? “Uh, how did you know he was-?”  
  
        “I didn’t,” Trick answered with a shrug. “But now I know no one else will. Keep this flowing,” he told Ethan with a flourish of his hand as he walked away. “It’s almost feeding time.”   



	6. Chapter 6

         “Must be so _exciting_ being from England,” Joyce fawned, gripping Ripper’s arm as they walked Sunnydale’s main drag.   
  
         “Not particularly,” he shrugged, kicking a can out of their path as he puffed on a cigarette. Joyce pouted next to him. He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and bringing a shy grin back to her face. “You cold?”  
  
        She shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I feel special, like I’m just waking up, kinda.”  
  
        “Yeah?”  
  
        “Yeah, like, getting married and having a kid and everything was just a dream,” she said, her voice whimsical, “and now things are back like they're supposed to be.”  
  
        Her eyes lit up as they passed by a shop window. Ripper followed her gaze to a mannequin draped with a light wrap, with feathered ends to match Joyce’s feathered hair.  
  
        “That’s cool!” she gushed.  
  
        Ripper looked between her and the mannequin, a devious glint in his eye. “You fancy it?”  
  
        “Yeah,” she admitted wistfully, “but the store’s closed.”  
  
       Ripper finished his cigarette and tossed it aside. Extricating himself from Joyce’s arms, he grabbed a trash can sitting outside the shop. Swinging it around his body, he released it, sending it crashing through the shop window. The mannequin swayed dangerously as an alarm rang out, but then he was through the broken glass, taking the wrap off the mannequin, and a trilby hat for good measure. He hopped out of the window and back onto the sidewalk, feeling glass shards crumble under his shoes.   
  
        Joyce was beaming at him as he slipped the wrap over her shoulders, donning the hat for himself. “Oh wow, Ripper, that was so brave!”  
  
        He circled Joyce, her doe eyes looking up at him with adoration. He put his hand on her hip and moved in…  
  
        “Hold it!” a voice rang out. A policeman had appeared, his gun pointed at them, but Ripper saw the barrel shaking as the man quivered. He spied a half-eaten chocolate bar sticking out of the cop’s pocket. Stepping in front of Joyce, he moved toward the weapon, a thrill filling his veins.  
  
        “Oooh, copper’s got a gun,” he taunted. “You’ll never use it, though.”  
  
        “Will so!” the policeman responded indignantly.  
  
        “Ripper, be careful!” Joyce called as she backed away. The cop glanced in her direction, just for a moment, but it was enough. Ripper pounced on him, punching him repeatedly in the gut until he was hunched over. He brought the man’s face down onto a raised knee, the impact giving a satisfying thud. The man dropped, unconscious. Ripper took the gun from his clenched fingers and stowed it in the back of his jeans  
  
        “Told him he’d never use it,” he bragged to Joyce, whose cheeks were flushed as he swaggered back to her.  
  
        “You are so _cool_ ,” she giggled. He saw Joyce none-too-subtly bite her lip as her eyes travelled down his body. Ripper pulled her to him, pressing their bodies together before capturing her mouth in an aggressive kiss.   
  
        A soft moan from Joyce confirmed her enthusiasm. He ran his hands under the wrap he’d stolen for her, her soft curves melting into him. Slowly he pushed her backwards, maintaining the breathless kiss as her knees folded over the hood of the police car. Somewhere deep inside him, the thought registered that this was Buffy’s mother, and that this could irreversibly change the dynamic between the three of them. But when Joyce returned his affections, hooking her leg behind him and pulling him closer, lifting up his shirt and running her palms over his bare back and chest, his Slayer became the furthest thing from his mind. Such delicate, needy touches were something he hadn’t had in far too long.   
  
        One hand traveled lower, brushing against the gun in his waistband. His heart jumped in momentary panic as Joyce pulled it out, but then she simply laid it next to them on the hood and returned her hands to his backside. He laughed, supposing it would have been rather inconvenient to accidentally get shot in the arse as he was trying to put the moves on someone. As long fingernails dug into his skin, Ripper groaned and pushed Joyce further up the hood, letting his denim-clad growing erection tease the warmth between her legs.  
  
        Moving his lips down her neck, he pulled down her shirt to leave a trail of kisses down into her cleavage. There were too many layers to remove here, but he tweaked her nipples through the shirt, causing her to moan into his ear. Letting his hands travel south, he slipped his fingers under her skirt, seeking out Joyce’s clit and grinning at the gasp she let out when he found it. Letting her arousal coat his fingers in moisture, he circled the bundle of nerves, Joyce gripping him hard and letting out soft, breathy moans in response. As he increased his speed, her noises became louder and more desperate. Just as he thought she was about to go over the edge, Ripper stopped, chuckling devilishly when a protesting whine escaped the woman beneath him.  
  
        “Don’t move,” he told her, extracting his hand and sliding off of the car hood. Backtracking to where the cop still lay unconscious on the ground, he located a pair of handcuffs on a utility belt. Removing them and returning to Joyce, the glint in her eyes matched the shine of the handcuffs as he pinned her arms behind her back and secured them before placing himself above her once more.   
  
        Sliding down her body, Ripper hiked her skirt up and ducked his head underneath the material, framing his head between Joyce’s thighs. He took the waistband of her lacy briefs in his teeth, pulling it down as his hands pulled from the back, gripping her pert arse as they did so. Pulling the fabric down past her knees and over her ankles, Ripper pocketed the garment before diving back into her moist heat. He dipped his tongue inside her, tasting her essence before moving his tongue back to her clit and giving it earnest attention.  
  
        Already primed from his hands’ earlier stimulation, it didn’t take long before Joyce was squeezing his head between her thighs, crying out as he licked and teased her pleasure point, her restrained arms unable to touch anything but the car hood as an orgasm rumbled from her core. Ripper coaxed her through the waves, only resurfacing from under her skirt when she was spent and gasping for breath. 


	7. Chapter 7

        Ethan had left the warehouse and walked through a residential neighborhood, finding the houses abandoned and defenseless. Now evaluating Sunnydale’s shopping district, he seemed to be finding the same. He’d go back and report to Trick eventually, but for now, the pleasant autumn air was a welcome change from the constant aroma of chocolate.  
  
        Scattered noises of chaos filled the air. A fire hydrant was spewing water all over the street while an alarm droned from a shop which had no doubt been looted. Turning the corner, Ethan’s ears perked up as different sounds surfaced nearby. He slowed as he recognised moans of pleasure, then glanced around until he pinpointed the source. A couple was on the hood of a police cruiser, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Ethan had to hold in a laugh as he noticed the policeman unconscious on the sidewalk nearby. Nice touch.  
  
        A man’s face was hidden under his companion’s skirt as she writhed and moaned beneath him. Ethan had turned to leave them when he heard her speak.  
  
        “Ripper…” she cried as she bucked her hips. Ethan froze in his tracks.  
  
        Slowly turning around, he saw the torn jeans and white t-shirt showcasing Ripper’s form. His breath caught as the woman’s skirt shifted, allowing a handsome face to emerge, his mouth glistening with her essence. Ethan distantly wondered if Ripper’s partner was the Calendar woman...he couldn’t tell from here. He hadn’t seen much of her un-possessed by Eyghon, but during the brief time he had been around her, he’d gotten the impression she might be the fun type. His question was answered as Ripper shifted, letting Ethan see the woman beneath him’s face for the first time. It wasn’t Jenny. This woman was a little older, but pretty, loose golden curls framing a thin face with big brown eyes.  
  
        He found himself transfixed by the sight of Ripper, fumbling with his zipper as he kissed the woman down onto the hood. It reminded him of a night long past, in a smoke-filled club with too-bright flashing lights and too-loud music. They were dancing, so close their sweat was mingling, each man’s breath tickling the other’s face, but never bringing their lips together. No, not in the middle of a crowded floor. Sometimes the tease was an act in itself. But then the room would sway and spin around them and Ethan would be forced to hold onto Ripper, both their heads full of drugs and alcohol and magic and each other. When they couldn’t deny themselves any longer Ripper had taken him in the alley out back, Ethan’s face smashed against the rough brick wall as Rupert’s jeans dropped, cupping the bottom of his arse.  
  
        That same arse was in front of him now, exposed as Ripper hiked up the woman’s skirt and drove himself into her. Her cries as he filled her awoke something in Ethan, who bit his lip as he felt his own arousal stirring. _Oh, that is inconvenient_ , he thought, but he didn’t stop watching Ripper’s thigh muscles clenching as he thrust. Ethan backed into the entryway of a store, affording him a little more cover while still allowing him to watch Rupert’s exhibition. What would happen if he walked up to them right now? Would they carry on fucking, Ripper delighting in taunting him? Or would he stop, abandon the woman for long enough to send Ethan home with more injuries? He knew better than to hope for the reversion spell to make Rupert forget the bad blood between them, but he still found himself imagining that it was him on the police car, handcuffed and at Ripper’s mercy. Heat crept up his neck as his heart raced and his breath quickened. Leaning against the store, his hand traveled to his pants, gripping his erection through the fabric as he let out a groan.   
  
        Ethan dropped his hand, sighing. He wasn’t quite to the public indecency level of desperation yet, unlike his old friend. His will was tested again as he saw Ripper bury himself in the woman a final time, growling as he came. He withdrew, not letting the woman have a break before sticking his hand up her skirt again. Her head fell back as she moaned, pushing against Rupert, seemingly ready to go again. Ethan’s sense of self-preservation was the only thing strong enough to force him to walk away, sinking back into the shadows as the couple carried on. 


	8. Chapter 8

         He’d been in the backseat of police cars before, but not by choice, and never with such pleasant distractions. Ripper lit another pair of cigarettes, passing one to Joyce, whose head was resting on his shoulder.   
  
        “Thanks,” she said softly, keeping the cigarette between her fingers and nuzzling further into his chest. If he let her, she may fall asleep there.  
  
        “Tired?” he asked with a smirk, barely hiding the confidence that he was responsible.  
  
        “Mm,” she sighed contentedly. Rupert puffed his cigarette, using his free hand to languidly stroke Joyce’s hair. His eyes had nearly closed when shouting from the street made them both sit up.  
  
        “MORE CANDY!” a shrill voice shouted. “They’re giving out more chocolate bars at the loading dock!”  
  
        Ripper leaned out of the car to see the tiny older woman running past them, beckoning anyone who would listen to follow. “Ms. Barton…?” he puzzled. Her hair, usually in a severe bun, had fallen over her shoulders, her shirt was hanging loosely off of her, and there was a wild energy in her eyes he was certain she hadn’t experienced in forty years.  
  
        Joyce was already clambering over him to get out of the car. “Ohh, let’s go!”   
  
        He held her hips to steady her as she nearly fell out of the open door. It was too late to remind her she could have exited on the other side. Once they were both out and upright, they fell into a brisk pace in the direction Ms. Barton had disappeared.  
  
        Turning the corner, they heard mounting noise as a crowd came into view. Thirty or so people were rushing the dock, clamoring for chocolate as workers tossed bars to them.  
  
        Joyce deflated. “Oh, we’ll never get through that.”   
  
        “Hey,” he told her, taking her chin in his hand and pivoting her pout up to him. “You want more candy, I’ll get you more candy.”  
  
        She smiled, melting into him again. “Well...there’s no rush.”  
  
        He kissed her, holding her face with one hand as the other slipped under her shirt. He was dimly aware of a large blur coming to a stop several feet away, with smaller blurs emptying out of it toward them. Before he knew it, one of the shapes was shrieking at them.  
  
        “Mom?! Giles???”  
  
        “Go away, we’re busy,” he told the interruption, not taking his mouth off of Joyce’s until she was being wrenched away from him.  
  
        “Hey!” Joyce yelped.   
  
        Ripper rounded on them, coming face to face with his Slayer. “Back off,” he told her.  
  
        The blonde drew herself up to her full height and stared him down. “Giles, think about this. Do you wanna fight me, or do you wanna let me talk to my mother?”  
  
        He hated to admit it, but he wouldn’t stand a chance if he went toe-to-toe with Buffy. In an attempt to back down gracefully, he pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it, stepping away from the women as they convened. As soon as smoke filled his lungs, Joyce was pulling toward him again, pointing out the candy supply to her daughter.  
  
        Buffy held fast to her mother’s wrist. “You don’t need any more!”  
  
        Joyce huffed. “I’m fine. I can have more if I want.”  
  
        “You’re not fine,” Buffy sighed, exasperated. “You need to go home.”  
  
        “Screw you, I want candy! Get off my back.”  
  
        “Mom please, this is-”  
  
        “Oh, for God’s sake,” Ripper interjected, getting between them and pulling Joyce toward the dock. “Let your mum have the sodding candy.”  
  
        Joyce was jerked back from him as Buffy spun her around. “I did that,” Buffy told her, pointing toward the large vehicle, which was sporting a considerable dent on the driver’s side.  
  
        “Oh god,” Joyce wailed. “What was I thinking when I bought the geek machine?”  
  
        Ripper bent over laughing, their ridiculous bickering getting to him. Buffy pushed him back up forcefully. “Listen to me, you need--”  
  
        “No, you listen!” he retorted, pointing in her face. He hadn’t spent the last twenty years in tweed to be pushed around by his charge. “I’m your Watcher, so  _ you _ do what  _ I _ tell you. Now, sod off!”  
  
        Ever the obedient Slayer, Buffy snatched his cigarette and threw it onto the ground, her green eyes fiery as they bore into his. “Take. Her. Home.”  
  
        Having had her final say, Buffy took off into the crowd, weaving toward the dock where the crates of candy were quickly emptying. Grabbing Joyce’s hand, he followed. As if he’d let her have all the fun.   



	9. Chapter 9

        “Yeah, I’ve been out there,” Ethan told Trick on the other end of the line. “The town’s wide open. You guys can go anytime.”  
  
        Suddenly he felt a presence approaching. He turned, the spritely blonde Buffy Summers getting far too close to him far too quickly.  
  
        She folded her arms. “Ethan Rayne.”  
  
        He smiled nervously at her. With the whole town as mindless teenagers, who would have considered the actual teenagers would be a threat to the scheme at hand? Movement behind her caught Ethan’s attention. Two more people rounded the corner- Ripper, a dangerous look in his eyes upon recognising Ethan, accompanied by the woman Ripper had been so enthralled with a short while before. The three of them closing in on him wasn’t the most comforting of sights.  
  
        “Might want to hurry,” he told Trick before hanging up the receiver.   
  
        Ripper called his name, his voice a low growl. “Ethan.”  
  
        “Ripper,” Ethan breathed, finally able to call him by his old nickname without it merely being a taunt. He didn’t anticipate this encounter would end well for him. He didn’t break eye contact with Ripper until he began to run.   



	10. Chapter 10

        Adrenaline pumped through Ripper as he hurdled over a conveyor belt behind his Slayer, watching Ethan disappear between rows of large crates. They slowed as they entered the maze, neither direction showing any sign of the sorcerer. Ethan couldn’t have outrun them that easily, though Ripper had to admit he was more out of breath than he would have liked.  
  
        “Where,” he wheezed, “bloody hell…”  
  
        “That’s what smoking will do to you,” Buffy snapped. “Now be quiet.”  
  
        She looked around carefully for any indication of where Ethan had gone. Trying to focus his energy, Ripper woke senses he hadn’t used in a long time. Probing the air, he could feel a dangerous heat lurking nearby- Ethan’s magic, more chaotic than it once was. He was still here.  
  
        His suspicions were confirmed when a splintering wood and yelp roused him from his concentration, Buffy’s superior Slayer senses having beaten him to locating Ethan. She pulled him out of the crate, being none too careful as he fell four feet to the floor.  
  
         Ethan had a real gift for managing to look smug and nervous at the same time. Ripper appraised him, his dark eyes and trademark silk shirt eliciting a different response than in their encounters last year. Now that Ripper was back to himself, he had a sense of dominance over Ethan, but not just to protect Buffy or to punish whatever role Ethan had in what was happening. Truth be told, Ripper wasn’t sure he’d consider most of this a problem. What was wrong with a night of fun?  
  
        Buffy, of course, seemed to feel differently. “So, Ethan, what are we playing? We're pretty much in a talk-or-bleed situation. Your call.”  
  
        Ripper grinned at her directness, but couldn’t help thinking there was an even quicker way to the answers she wanted. “Hit him,” he told Buffy. She merely glared in response.  
  
       “I- I’d just like to point out that this wasn’t my idea,” Ethan stammered.  
  
       Buffy narrowed her eyes. “Meaning?”  
  
       “I’m subcontracting. It's Trick you want. I'm just helping him collect a tribute... for a demon,” Ethan told her, mumbling the last words as if he was hoping she wouldn’t hear them.  
  
       “He’s lying,” he told Buffy. Ripper had trouble believing Ethan would work for someone else, getting no recognition or attention for his creative efforts. “Hit him.”  
  
       Buffy spun to face him. “I don’t think he is, and _shut up_.”  
  
       Again with the bossy. He returned to the Watchers for this? “You’re _my_ Slayer, go knock his teeth down his th--”  
  
       “Giles!”  
  
       Ripper backed off, pacing behind her as Buffy returned to Ethan.  
  
       “What demon?” Buffy asked.  
  
       Ethan was a beat too quick in answering. “I don’t remember.”  
  
       Buffy jabbed her fist into his nose, catching Ethan off guard and causing him to stumble backward. Ripper leapt in delight, catching Ethan’s disgruntled look as Ripper’s fist pumped the air. Buffy joined the sorcerer in scowling, then turned back to Ethan with a raised fist.  
  
      “Lurconis,” he supplied quickly. “I think the demon is named Lurconis. They wanted a way to get the tribute away from people.”

       “So you're just Diversion Guy?”  
  
       “More than a diversion,” Ethan replied. Ripper suspected his pride was unable to handle his importance in the scheme being downsized. He moved forward, coming face to face with Ethan, glaring into his eyes as he gripped the front of Ethan’s shirt. He didn’t back down as Ripper’s body grazed his own, willing to submit to the Slayer but clearly having a stubborn complex when it came to his former friend.   
  
        Ethan continued, speaking to both of them but eyes only on one, with the other man still close enough to inhale his familiar scent. “Well, they said the tribute was big, so big that people would never let them take it. That people had to be out-of-it. And later on, when the candy wore off, they'd blame themselves.”  
  
       Buffy sighed, stepping between the two men and forcing Ripper backward. “Hence, land of the irresponsible. So, where's Trick?”  
  
       “I don't know exactly,” Ethan began, flinching as Buffy raised her fist again. “No! I-I-I really don't know. Delivering the tribute.”  
  
        Buffy raised her eyebrows, taking Ripper’s place in holding Ethan threateningly. “Which brings us to the bonus question, and believe me when I say a wrong answer will cost you _all_ your points.”  
  
        Ripper grinned, ready for a good fight.  
  
        “What's the tribute?”


	11. Chapter 11

         Ethan could distantly hear Buffy on the phone as she had her friends searching for what the tribute was. It would be easier to discern what she was saying if the little goblin man who had apparently followed Ripper into the factory would cease irritating him.  
  
        “She whupped you good, huh?” the man crowed, mocking throwing punches up at Ethan. Ethan didn’t flinch. Seeking a more enthusiastic audience, the man moved closer to Ripper and the object of his affections, who rolled her eyes and blew a bubble with her gum.  
  
        He glanced around, taking inventory of the room. The balding man was longingly gazing toward Ripper and the woman, whose arms were now wrapped around each other as they murmured undoubtedly sweet nothings that Ethan couldn’t hear. The Slayer was still on the phone, sounding increasingly frustrated. On the now-unguarded desk, Ethan spied a crowbar. He had to get out of here before they came up with some dreadful punishment for his part in the mayhem. He reached for the long piece of metal, assessing the weight of it in his hands as he crept toward Buffy’s back. Her supernatural strength didn’t mean she wasn’t vulnerable to being knocked out, as Ethan had learned once before. It was his only chance.  
  
        “I wouldn’t,” Ripper’s growl reached him as something cold and metal pressed into Ethan’s neck. Glancing down, he saw a handgun, cocked and ready, with Ripper’s finger on the trigger.  
  
        Buffy spun around, knocking Ethan’s chin upward with the phone receiver and sending him sprawling onto the floor, the crowbar flying out of reach. As he tried to get up, he saw Ripper’s shadow fall over him, the gun now pointed at the back of his head. He’d been a menace, Ethan knew, but there was still a surprising twinge of pain in his stomach as he glanced uneasily up at his captor. After everything, could Rupert really kill him?  
  
        “A gun, Ripper?” Ethan murmured. “You never needed something so crass and impersonal before.”  
  
        He thought he saw a flicker of something in Ripper’s eyes, hoping that it entailed a reconsideration of the execution-style pose they found themselves in. Then suddenly he was being grabbed and pulled forward again, the Slayer’s furious face yelling into his. “Lurconis EATS BABIES. Are you _satisfied_?!”  
  
        A wave of nausea passed over Ethan. He loved Chaos, but he didn’t sign up for infant sacrifice. Now he knew why Trick preferred that he didn’t ask questions.  
  
        Ethan gulped, the Slayer’s grip on him uncomfortable. “I’m merely a clown in this, love, not the ringmaster. I didn’t know.”  
  
        She released him, but didn’t take her eyes off him as she extended her hand toward her Watcher. “Giles, give me the gun.”  
  
        Ripper didn’t move. The seconds stretched out in silence as a bead of sweat formed on Ethan’s neck.  
  
        “Now,” Buffy asserted, and Ripper finally handed over the weapon. Ethan exhaled.  
  
        The girl grasped the older woman’s hand, pulling her toward the exit. “Come on, Mom.”  
  
        Despite the circumstances he’d just been in, Ethan nearly couldn’t hold in a giggle. Now that _did_ make things interesting. He wondered if the Slayer had any idea what her Watcher and mother had been up to just hours before.  
  
        “Well, what about that man?” the woman asked her daughter, gesturing toward Ethan.  
  
        Buffy shrugged, clearly focused on bigger things. “Uh, see if you guys can find something to tie him up with.”  
  
        The woman’s blush was immediate as she extricated a set of handcuffs from god-knows-where and handed them over. The only person who might have looked more mortified was Buffy.  
  
        “Never tell me,” Buffy begged as she tossed the cuffs to her Watcher, clearly wanting as little contact with them as possible.  
  
        Ripper wasted no time in pinning him to the floor, his knee in the middle of Ethan’s back as he tightened the restraints.  
  
        “This brings back some memories,” Ethan muttered, low enough so that only Ripper could hear. He expected pain in response, but Ripper surprised him by leaning down to his ear and making a promise that stood Ethan’s hair on end.  
  
        “I’ll be back for you later.” 


	12. Chapter 12

        The maternity ward was a bust, nothing there but a bunch of useless nurses who swore they had no idea where the babies had gone. It was a good thing some hidden remnant of Rupert’s studies remained in his brain, or else they might have never found the demon in time. Snivelling Snyder certainly wasn’t going to be any help.  
  
        Ripper dropped into the sewer tunnel, forgoing the last few steps on the ladder then helping Joyce down behind him. Itching for a fight after leaving the hospital, he was excited to discover that the action was already starting when they caught up to Buffy, who was facing the Mayor and several vampire cronies. Typical politician that he was, Wilkins made a hasty retreat, but there were plenty of others to occupy Buffy’s attention.  
  
        He ran with Joyce to find a rolling table loaded up with tiny newborns, their pink and blue blankets not enough to shield them from the filthiness of the sewers. They rolled the table to a safe distance, then he left the infants in Joyce’s care as he ran to assist Buffy.  
  
        A smiling, yellow-eyed vampire in a large red suit was advancing on her as the whole tunnel rumbled with an unsettling noise. Ripper jumped between them, ignoring his Slayer’s protests and hurling a punch into the vamp’s face. Recovering far too quickly, the vampire picked Ripper up by his shirt and hurled him across the room, where he landed in a pool of water with an ungraceful thump. He hoped it at least looked heroic for Joyce.   
  
        He’d begun to pull himself out of the water when the rumbling returned, this time accompanied by a giant snakelike demon slithering out of the pipes only a few feet away. The remaining vampires scattered. Ripper scrambled frantically out of the pool, retreating back toward Joyce as Buffy leapt up, dislodging a gas pipe and pointing it at the demon. The stream caught a torch on the wall and spewed fire onto the beast, its subsequent writhing screams truly unpleasant to behold. Joyce stared on in horror as Ripper pulled her close, kissing her forehead.  
  
        When the demon finally ceased movement, Buffy let out a sigh of exhaustion and led them toward the tunnel’s exit. Joyce pushed the cart of babies to the ladder, then ascended it, Ripper bringing one at a time up to her before finally emerging himself.  
  
        “Can we go home now?” Joyce begged her daughter as she tried to secure the tiny bundles in her car.  
  
        “Do you think you two can get them back to the hospital safely?” Ripper asked the women. “There's one more thing I’ve got to do.”   



	13. Chapter 13

         Ethan, still on the warehouse floor in handcuffs, heard footsteps approaching. He turned to look right as Ripper caught him by the nape of the neck, pulling him up and pushing him against the wall as invisible sparks flew from his hands.  
  
         Ripper’s eyes were inches from his, and he was breathing heavily, seemingly deciding what Ethan deserved.  
  
         “Listen, mate…” Ethan rasped, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what the tribute was.”  
  
         “Why should I believe you?”  
  
         “Ripper, I know I’m a self-serving arse, but I’m not out to help babies get eaten. That’s comic-book level of absurd villainy. How little do you think of me?”  
  
         Ripper tightened his grip on Ethan’s neck; his magic, so long repressed, reaching a concerning level as the power traveled Ethan’s spine. If he wasn’t being held up, he might not have been able to stand.   
  
        “You expect me to believe you got nothing from makin’ me like this? The me you’ve tried to lure out every time I’ve seen you?”  
  
         “I didn’t say _that_ ,” Ethan breathed, testing his luck with a smirk. He felt his windpipe become less restricted as Ripper loosened his hand.  
  
         “What might you be willin’ to do to get out of those cuffs?” Ripper asked, eyes narrowing.  
  
         Ethan quirked his eyebrow. “I’d show you, but I might have a bit of trouble unfastening your jeans with no hands.”  
  
         Ripper jerked his button and fly open, then pushed Ethan harshly to the floor. He felt pain blooming out as his kneecaps smacked the concrete, but he was determined not to show it.  
  
         Now at crotch level, he spied Ripper’s erection already straining against his boxers. “My my, did you not get enough with that tart I saw you with earlier?”  
  
         Ripper looked down at him with a devious expression, pulling his cock out. “See anything you like?”  
  
         Ethan took it in his mouth, unable to control much without his hands, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t determined to still be better than anything Ripper had had since leaving. He gave no build-up, just started in hard and fast, bobbing his head and using his tongue and lips to apply strategic pressure as he drew moans from the other man, the sounds Ethan had always found himself addicted to.   
  
        Soon Ripper dug fingers into his hair and began fucking his mouth, sending electric shocks radiating over Ethan’s scalp. Ethan got a delirious sense of accomplishment every time the tip of Ripper’s cock reached his throat. Twenty years, it had been, but he’d finally freed his Ripper from his tweed jackets and Watcher sensibilities, if only for a night.   
  
        He gave one final thrust and stilled, grunting as Ethan felt warmth spill into his throat. He used his tongue to give the sensitive head attention as he backed off, then sat expectantly as Ripper caught his breath. Ripper circled behind him and grabbed Ethan’s wrists, none too gently, and Ethan felt him picking the handcuffs open.   
  
         His neck prickled as a voice was suddenly in his ear, breath hot on his neck. “Be seeing you.”  
  
         Ethan stretched his arms, wincing at where the handcuffs had rubbed his wrists raw. He turned around, but Ripper was gone.


End file.
